


There's a Hole Up in the Sky

by stellarmeadow



Series: Bottom of the Sea [2]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pining, Swimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 18:19:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/298661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarmeadow/pseuds/stellarmeadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Danny get sent to Maui to run security for a meeting and run into someone unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's a Hole Up in the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this sequel almost since I finished Bottom of the Sea--I just couldn't let it end there. The story should still make sense if you haven't read that, but it'll have more meaning if you have. Title from the lyrics of Matt Nathanson's "Bottom of the Sea." Hope you enjoy!

"All I am saying is that a normal airline would be at least somewhat concerned with telling us that the flight is delayed, and maybe, I don't know...apologize for it?"

Steve rolls his eyes, leading Danny through the dark halls of Kahului Airport. Danny bitched the entire time they'd sat in Honolulu, waiting for the flight, and started up again the moment they stepped off the plane in Maui.

But not in between.

"You didn't seem to mind so much when you had your new friend to talk to," Steve says, securing the shoulder strap of his bag more carefully on his shoulder as he steps out into the sunlight and searches for the car rental sign.

"My new friend?" Danny's voice says it all--Steve knows exactly what exasperated expression he'd find if he turned around. "At least the stewardess had the grace to apologize."

Steve stops, turns to squint at Danny. "What is it with you and apologies?"

"What's with me and apologies?" Danny spreads his feet just enough that Steve can tell he's digging in for a fight. "I'll tell you what's with me and apologies, Steven. They're the glue that keeps the fabric of civilized humanity from ripping apart."

"Really?" Steve cocks his head, thinking. "I thought that it was the rules that did that."

"Apologizing is one of the rules!" Danny looks around, apparently realizes that a few people are trying not to stare, and lowers his voice a little. "The stewardess--"

"Flight attendant," Steve corrects, because, hey, if they're going to be civilized, they should be PC about it.

"Flight attendant," Danny says through clenched teeth, "was trying to make me feel better about the fact that no one seemed to care if we were late for saving the world."

Steve takes a deep breath. "We don't have to save the world until tomorrow. Half an hour doesn't matter."

"It is the _principle_ of the thing, Steven."

"That's not what you told the stewardess," Steve says as he turns and starts toward the van for the rental agency.

" _Flight attendant_."

Steve steps onto the van harder than he means to. " _Debbie_ , then," he says, dropping onto one of the seats and watching Danny sit beside him. "That was her name, right? 'Debbie Ann'?"

Danny makes a face. "Are you making fun of her name, now? Really?"

"No, I'm just saying that when you fly a local island airline the last thing you expect is a flight attendant who looks like she just flew in from Newark, short skirt and all."

Danny blinks. Hard. " _O_ -kay," he says with a smile that Steve absolutely does not like or trust. He likes it even less when Danny leans back and folds his arms over his chest, that same smug smile plastered on his face.

"'Okay' what?"

"Just okay," Danny says, shaking his head, a semi-pout marring the smile for all of three seconds before it's back.

After staring at that smile for half the rest of the ride to the rental agency, Steve decides he's probably better off not knowing. He leaves Danny with their bags and goes into the rental office, talking the agent into finding a Camaro for them. If anything goes wrong, he doesn't want to have to stop and think about what he's driving.

Danny's apparently done with the silence by the time they're in the car and on the road. "What I don't get," he says, staring out the side window, "is why we had to come today. The Ambassador isn't coming until tomorrow, and we could have waited--"

"What, are you missing that miserable hotel you're holed up in back home? I mean, I'm sure the Westin can't compare, but you can tough it out for a night." Steve grips the wheel and takes a deep breath. "The ambassador is due in at eight tomorrow morning," Steve explained, not for the first time. "We have to make sure everything is in place today."

"So, what, we couldn't have come later?"

Steve drums his fingers on the steering wheel. They could have come later--they could have taken an afternoon flight. But he's been doing everything he can to distract Danny from imploding over his failed relationship with Rachel, and the trip to Maui seemed like a perfect chance to do just that.

And if he's hoping that sharing a room might lead to other distractions, well, it isn't his main motive, at any rate.

"The flights aren't that reliable, you said so yourself," Steve says after a moment. "Better safe than sorry."

"This is your fault anyway," Danny says. "If you hadn't pissed off the governor when you _accidentally_ caught that perp by mowing him down with my car, he would not be punishing us by sending us to Maui."

"Danny, you realize that most people would not consider being sent to Maui a punishment, right?" Steve asks, dividing his attention between the car in front of him, which is going twenty miles an hour under the speed limit and requires little attention anyway, and Danny. "Most people would consider it a perk of the job. You were just complaining about police work having no perks, so here you go." Steve waves a hand at the ocean view on the driver's side of the window. "Enjoy."

Danny gives a little growl that Steve feels deep in the pit of his stomach. "You're not even a little  funny. You know that, right?"

"I'm a little funny," Steve says, throwing a smirk at Danny that's carefully calculated to get him going. It doesn't work, though, which is rare. Danny just sinks back into the seat and stares silently at the scenery crawling by at a far more sedate pace than either Steve or the Camaro would like.

The traffic slows further, and Steve taps his fingers impatiently, but when a truck three vehicles in front of him turns off, traffic speeds back up close to the speed limit, and he relaxes a little.

Which is when Danny asks, "What food did you really hate as a kid?"

They've been playing this game, for lack of anything else to call it, since that night on the beach. Danny will randomly quiz Steve on his background at the oddest moments. Sometimes big questions, other times minor stuff, but Steve keeps his promise to answer every one that he can. "Spinach," Steve says. "And asparagus."

"Favorite childhood memory?"

Steve thinks back. "Peanut butter cookies," he says slowly, and he can smell them as if they were baking in the back seat. "Every year for Christmas, Mom would bake batches and batches of them. She sent them to the precinct with Dad, she sent them to school with us, gave them to all the neighbors. But the best ones were always right after she took them out of the oven, when Mary and I would get to sit at the table and eat all the broken ones." He smiles at the memory. "I think she 'broke' quite a few for us, honestly."

Questions about a playground injury with a long story behind it, and exactly how Steve ended up in detention for a week afterwards, get them to Lahaina, and Steve's just winding up the story when they pull into the Westin. He lets Danny off at the door with their bags and parks the car fast enough that Danny's still in the check in line when Steve gets inside.

Steve takes over at the desk, carefully not looking at Danny as the clerk mentions the one king size bed in the room. From the lack of reaction,  Steve wonders if Danny even heard it. When Steve turns to head for the elevators and has to stop and call to Danny, he assumes not.

The elevator ride is quiet, whatever thought Danny is having enough to keep him thoroughly distracted. They make it almost to the room before Steve can't take it anymore. "What's with you?" he asks as he stops to put the key card in the slot.

Danny shakes his head, pushing past Steve, who's holding the door open for him. "Nothing," he says, sounding as believable as if he'd just said pineapple on pizza was the best idea ever. Unfortunately, Steve also knows that tone, and it means he's not getting an answer. So either he gets Danny in an answering mood, or he plays detective and figures it out.

He has time for neither at the moment, but if he can hurry through their meeting with security.... Steve checks his watch. "Okay," he says, "maybe you can put your 'nothing' aside long enough for us to meet with hotel security?"

"Do I ever let anything get in the way of doing my job?" Danny asks. "Have I ever _once_ put anything else on the planet above ensuring the safety and security of the free world?"

So...maybe Steve might have a clue what the problem is. "No," he says, quietly, unable to make the joking remark he knows would probably help more than the sympathy he can't keep out of his voice. "I know better than just about anyone that you don't."

Surprisingly, that seems to work, as Danny shakes his head, giving Steve a slightly rueful look. "We're going to be late for our meeting," Danny says, nodding at the door, and looking like he's fully there for the first time since the plane. "Let's go."

They meet the head of security, and go over the plans for the meeting between the Ambassador and a Chinese diplomat. The whole meeting is completely off the books, which, Steve suspects, is one of the reasons 5-0 was asked to handle the security.

When they're done, they discuss timing and arrangements for the following morning, and then Danny and Steve are free for the rest of the day. "I hear the pool is nice," Steve says as they're walking back to the elevator.

"I'm not much for swimming, Steven," Danny mutters, but he gives Steve half a smile, which Steve's going to count as a win.

"They serve beer. Poolside."

Danny thinks about that for a second. "That I could do," he says, as he steps onto the elevator in front of Steve. "It's not like we have anywhere else to go," he adds as he pushes the button for their floor. "Not much around here."

"There's a golf course," Steve offers.

"I will swim before I will play golf," Danny says, his tone adamant.

"Shopping?" Steve says, as seriously as he can manage. At Danny's look, Steve shrugs, hiding a smile. "Pool it is."

They're changed and back on the elevator before Steve realizes what he's done to himself, treating himself to an afternoon of Danny, shirtless and golden, lying beside him where he can't do anything about it. Still, it's better than a moping Danny.

The adult pool isn't too busy, and Steve tosses his towel on one chair, watching as Danny does the same on the one beside it. It seems windier there than in Honolulu, but it reminds Steve a little of being on a boat far out at sea, and he can't help but feel more in his element. Or maybe it's having Danny out of _his_ element that's got him suddenly hopeful. A whole 18 hours before they have anywhere to be, and no one else they know anywhere nearby to distract them.

What's not to love about that?

A waitress comes by and gets their order, and Steve debates the pool vs. lying there where he can enjoy the view. One look at Danny stretched out on the lounger and he decides the pool doesn't look nearly as attractive. After all, he has a whole ocean to swim in at home, but this view is something special.

Danny stretches, and Steve has to shift, hoping his board shorts are baggy enough to cover what it does to him. Danny turns his head and looks at Steve, eyebrows arching over the top of his sunglasses. "What?"

"What?"

"That's what I said."

Steve wrinkles his nose. "Anybody ever tell you that you make no sense?"

"Coming from you? _That_ makes no sense."

The waitress brings two Longboards, placing them on the table between Steve and Danny, and they toast carefully with the disposable cups before each taking a drink. Danny looks out at the ocean, taking a few more sips. "Maui's not so bad, I suppose," he says, taking another drink before putting his cup on the table and settling in on his back to soak up sun. "A little...small, maybe--"

"Small?" Steve says, not quite believing what he's hearing. "Did you happen to see the mountains? Or Haleakala, Danny? 10,000 feet straight up. Small?"

He recognizes that tilt to the corner of Danny's mouth as the side of a smirk; Danny's winding him up. The question is why? For fun? Or because they're there alone? And sharing a bed?

He's long past pretending that nothing's going to happen. One more careful study of that particular smirk, and Steve knows exactly what Danny's up to. But this is the earliest in the day that Danny's started this. Usually it's not until dinner or after, and only after far more alcohol than the few sips Danny's had so far. This is as close as Danny's ever come to sober, calculated, pre-meditated passive seduction.

Steve's not even sure what to do with that. His body, however, accustomed to zero-to-sixty when Danny starts in, is definitely registering its vote that it's totally on board with the sudden images Steve's having that have no place at a public pool. Even an adults-only one.

"I'm just saying that there are chickens, Steven. In the 'city' and not frozen ones in a supermarket."

"You don't like chickens?"

"Not with their feathers still on, no, I am not particularly a fan." Danny thinks for a moment. "I wouldn't put them in a cage match," he says, "but I prefer them off on some farm where I don't have to think about them. Not shedding their feathers on my car from a truck."

He thought Danny hadn't been paying enough attention to notice that on the way from the airport. "I guess I'll have to take your Christmas present back to the farm, then," Steve says.

Danny laughs, which Steve always, always counts as a win, just for the sound of it. And the smile that goes along with it. "You haven't checked the water," Danny says, nodding at the pool. "Are your gills broken today or something?"

"No," Steve says, giving a nonchalant shrug--or at least he hopes he does. "Just thought I'd drink my beer first," he says, holding up his cup before putting it to his lips.

"But if you don't make sure the water is free of rogue wildlife, how will I know if it's safe to get in?"

Steve chokes on his beer. "You're going to go swimming?"

"I might."

"In actual water?"

Danny rolls his eyes. "I told you, I know how to swim."

"Yes, but you also told me you swim for survival, not for fun."

"Who says this isn't survival?" Danny asks, arching his brows.

Steve frowns. "What?"

"Fine," Danny says, which makes no sense, but he stands up, his broad, tanned back on display, and Steve finds it hard to remember why it didn't make sense. "You won't check the water for me, I'll have to check it for myself."

Before Steve can process that, Danny is in the pool, and, oh, look, it turns out he really can swim. Quite well, actually, Steve realizes, watching him make strong, powerful strokes through the water. Steve takes a long swallow of his Longboard and puts it carefully on the table beside him, never taking his eyes off Danny. He thinks about getting in the water himself, but he's not sure he wants to miss a moment of watching this.

Then Danny bumps into some woman. He apologizes, of course, touching her shoulder and flashing her a smile, and Steve only realizes he's in the pool when he's wiping water out of his eyes. He goes under and swims forward, catching Danny before he's even managed to remove his hand from the woman's shoulder.

Danny glances at Steve and rewards him with a quick smile. "Sorry again," he says to the woman, letting go of her, glancing at Steve with more of a smirk this time before diving past him and swimming full-speed toward their loungers.

Steve stares after him for a few seconds before following, reaching Danny's side just before he pulls himself out of the water. Steve's mouth goes dry as Danny grips the side of the pool and hauls himself up as if he weighs nothing, water streaming down his body, looking more like porn than...well, actual porn.

There's no way Steve's going to be able to hide his reaction if he doesn't give himself a minute.

So he dives under the water, darting around the few people in his way, not coming up for air until he reaches the other side. He looks back as soon as he's above water, sees Danny is watching, and smirks.

Something off to his right catches his attention, and he cocks his head, listening, his stomach sinking when he realizes what it was. Or, rather, who.

It can't possibly be. Danny's not due to get Grace until the day after they get back, and why on earth would Rachel be here?

Steve forces himself to turn his head and look, and yes. It's Rachel. Looking somewhat pregnant and smiling at her husband.

Fuck.

He looks back over at Danny, who's still watching Steve and hasn't noticed the happy couple ten yards to Steve's right. Steve takes a deep breath and dives back in, making his way quickly back over to Danny.

Despite his distraction, he doesn't miss Danny's appreciative look as Steve pulls the same maneuver Danny did getting out of the pool, or as Steve dries himself off. "I'm hungry," Steve says, resolutely keeping his eyes from going anywhere near where Rachel and Stan are sitting. "Let's go back into Lahaina and get something to eat."

"Why would we do that?" Danny asked, his eyebrows wrinkling closer. "There are restaurants next door, and the hotel has a few. Plus, there's always room service."

Right. Room service. In the room. Where they can't run into Rachel. "Room service?" Steve says, trying not to sound relieved by the idea. "I like the sound of that. Kick back and unwind before tomorrow. Let's go."

He finishes off his beer and waves the waitress over, signing the check while Danny finishes his. "Ready?" Steve says as Danny's still draining the last of  the cup.

"Where's the fire?" Danny asks as he stands up and slings his towel over his shoulder.

"I told you, I'm hungry. And room service takes a while."

"Fine, lead the way," Danny says, making no bones about how his eyes stray to Steve's ass as Steve steps in front of him. Which suits Steve just fine--he'd like to keep Danny's attention all on him and not on anyone who might be around. Certainly not on anyone who might turn out to be Rachel.

He supposes he could just tell Danny she's there. But then...no. This is supposed to be a distraction from her. He'll wait until Danny's in the shower and call Chin or Kono and get them to find out when the computer says Rachel and Stan are checking out. God willing, it'll be in the morning. Early. And he won't have to say anything to Danny.

They're passing one of the hotel restaurants when a small child barrels into Steve from out of nowhere. Steve has to stop to steady the kid, and Danny stops with him. Steve is so focused on the boy that he doesn't notice there's someone else three steps away when he starts forward again.

Which is why he runs smack into Rachel.

"I'm sorry, I--Rachel?" he says, feigning surprise.

Her surprise is genuine, turning to something akin to horror for a second as she sees Danny beside him. "Don't worry about it, Commander," she says, ducking her head, "accidents happen."

She hurries off toward the bathroom on the other side of the restaurant, and Steve turns to see Danny's stunned face staring after her. "Come on," Steve says, grabbing Danny's bicep and all but dragging him to the elevator. Because he knows what's going to happen when Danny's shock wears off. And getting thrown out of the hotel before they can do their job is not going to help either of them.

To Steve's surprise, Danny doesn't fight him. He lets Steve lead him to the elevator, gets on without pushing back, and stares at the doors as if he can't quite figure out how they managed to close themselves. Regardless, Steve doesn't let go of him until they're in the room, and Steve is firmly planted between Danny and the door.

Danny sits down on the edge of the bed, looking up at Steve, the first sign of actual cognitive thought since they'd seen Rachel. "How--" he starts, then shakes his head. "Did you know that she would be here?" he asks in a low voice.

"What?" Steve stares at him. "Did I know? You think I'd have brought you anywhere near here if I'd known?" he asks honestly. "This was supposed to help distract you from her, not throw her in your face."

"Great," Danny says, and his laugh is anything but encouraging. Steve has heard similar laughs from men right before they did something stupid like throw themselves off buildings or blow themselves up. "I can't even get away from her when I get off that fucking rock."

There's no heat to his words, more amusement than anything, and that's as scary as the laugh. Steve picks up the phone and orders Longboards and lots of them, promising a very large tip if they get them here fast.

"The governor's not going to approve that expense," Danny says logically, as if that's the most important thing they have to discuss.

"I'll pay it," Steve bites out.

And there's that laugh again. "You're paying? Now I know I've landed in some bizarro world. This is what happens when you get too much sun and go swimming isn't it? The chlorine in the pool stripped off all my sunscreen and now I'm suffering severe sunstroke or something, right?"

"Danny--"

"Tell me I'm right, Steven!" Danny demands, picking up the nearest thing--thankfully, only a pillow--and throwing it across the room. It bounces off the desk without hurting anything, but it does nothing to help Danny's rage. "Tell me I'm just knocked out and dreaming and I'll wake up and none of this will have happened."

"None of what, Danny?" Steve asks, wondering just how far back he wants to rewrite history.

The snort Danny gives in response is only slightly less worrisome than the laugh. "Tell me I'll wake up in Jersey with my family."

That doesn't really clarify, but Steve's not sure he wants to hear the answer anyway. He doesn't want to hear how he ruined Danny's second chance by dragging Danny down with him in his own mess with Wo Fat, or how Danny might have been happy, if only Steve hadn't been an idiot. And he most especially doesn't want to hear Danny echoing that ugly little voice that whispers at Steve when he's trying to sleep, the one that says Rachel's not telling the whole truth about her baby. "I can't tell you that, Danny," Steve says, taking two steps forward. "I wish I could, believe me."

"No, you don't," Danny says, flopping back to lie on the bed. "You don't. Because then who would you have conscripted as your personal slave to drag all over the islands at your whim, Steven? I mean, you might have had to get a dog or something just to have someone else who would just blindly follow you around the way I do."

A knock at the door confirms that the promise of a large tip was fruitful, and Steve opens it to find a room service waiter with a tray with twelve Longboards. "It was all we had cooled, sir," he says with extreme professionalism, "but we can have another twelve up here in an hour."

"Fine," Steve says, taking the check from his hand and doubling it before signing and handing it back. He'll settle with the front desk later so it didn't end up on the government bill. "We'll call if we need more. Thank you."

He takes the tray from the man and lets the door close. Danny is still on his back on the bed, his fingers picking idly at the duvet cover. "Here," Steve says, popping the lid off a Longboard with the opener thoughtfully provided on the tray. He holds the beer out to Danny who sits up and takes it, downing half the bottle in one go.

"Better?" Steve asks.

"Not even a little," Danny replies, tipping the bottle to his lips and finishing it off. "Another," he says, holding out his empty.

Steve obliges, opening another one and handing it to him. Danny drinks only about a fourth of this one in his first go, but he still doesn't bother to say anything again until he's finished it about a minute or so later. "Beer me," he says, ending on a loud belch as he holds out the bottle.

"Maybe you should slow down a--"

"Steven, if there is not a full beer in my hand in under five seconds, I am not going to be held responsible for what I do to this bottle, this room, or you."

Steve holds out his own, which he doesn't think Danny will have noticed he's already drank a fourth of, and takes the empty from Danny's hand. Danny doesn't seem to notice as he takes a few shorter drinks, staring at the bottle for a moment, like it might have answers for him. "She's--what is she even doing here?" Danny asks, looking up at Steve at last.

"I don't know, Danny."

"I mean, obviously Stan brought her here," and really, Steve didn't know it was possible for even Danny to get that much snark into his tone. "He loves Maui, and I'm sure he's just _thrilled_ to bring his little family here." Danny stops long enough for a drink. "Never mind that _my_ daughter is apparently back at his house with the maids or something. It's not like they even asked me to keep her, and Grace, at least, _is_ my child, last I checked, even if the baby isn't."

Steve doesn't know what to say, is pretty sure there aren't words in the world that could cover this. Like there would be a greeting card that says, 'hey, sorry your ex-wife slept with you, told you she was having your child, and then said, never mind, not yours, let's just forget this happened.' No, no words for that one. And especially no words for, 'Hey, sorry that my stupidity kept you from having everything you wanted back.'

Beers seem somewhat inadequate, given the situation.

Danny finishes off the third beer and holds it out silently. Steve hesitates before opening one more and giving it to him. "You're gonna have to slow down, Danny," he says, because as much as he intends for Danny to get completely wasted, if that's what he needs, he doesn't need alcohol poisoning, and at this rate, that's where he's heading.

"You," Danny says, pointing at him with the beer bottle, sloshing a little onto the floor, "do _not_ get to tell me to slow down."

"Fine," Steve says. "Then I'll leave you here alone with the alcohol." Steve stalks off to the bathroom to take a shower, hoping that the need to physically open the next bottle might at least slow Danny down a little without someone there to do it for him.

He turns the water on as hot as he can stand and steps inside, turning his back to the dual shower heads and letting them ease some of the tension out of his back. He hasn't gotten anywhere near a proper swim today, and the last fifteen minutes have provided more tension than he really needed.

His muscles are just starting to relax when he hears the bathroom door open, followed quickly by the quick, metallic zing of the shower curtain, letting cold air in and steam out. Danny is staring at him accusingly, the steam quickly dampening his hair and clothes. "You," he says, pointing at Steve, "walked out."

"I went to take a shower, Danny--that's hardly walking out."

"You walked out," Danny repeated. "You left me in there _alone_."

And Steve's not really following, but then the alcohol is probably kicking into high gear, and Danny's probably not going to make a lot of sense after much longer. "I thought you wanted to..." _Brood. Mope. Be pissed at the world._ "...think," is what Steve says.

"No, no, Steven, I am _done_ thinking. I do _not_ want to think anymore for _hours_. Maybe days. Maybe I _never_ want to think again."

Danny starts pulling off his clothes, and Steve can think of a hundred reasons why this is such a bad idea, so much worse an idea than every other time over the past couple of weeks. Because Danny is angry at the world and Steve isn't some safe place for Danny to hide away and lick his wounds.

Then again, isn't he? Isn't that what he signed on for weeks ago, out on the beach behind his house?

He watches mutely as Danny strips and steps into the shower. He doesn't hesitate, just pushes Steve up against the shower wall and not so much kisses him as shoves his tongue down his throat, total domination his obvious goal. And Steve can't help but lean into it; he wants Danny more than Danny wants him, even now, even with this much obvious, if misplaced, need.

One of Danny's hand finds its way into Steve's hair, the other travels down Steve's front until it slips around his dick. Steve feels a moan catch in the back of his throat as he thrusts into Danny's hand, the water providing just enough relief from the friction to make it feel so, so good. Danny's lips leave Steve's mouth, moving down the side of his neck, and Steve only notices that his head hits the shower wall when he hears the thunk it makes.

"I want you," Danny says, his teeth scraping against Steve's neck on each word, "to fuck me."

"Danny--"

"Steven." Danny pulls back just enough to look Steve in the eye, Danny's hand using its grip on Steve's hair to hold Steve's head in place. "I don't want to think. I don't want to--I just--I want--"

He gives up, fastening his lips to Steve's shoulder, and Steve sinks into the tile, forgetting all the reasons this is such a bad idea. After all, it's not like it's the first time they've had sex--even if Danny's never asked for this before. And it's not like he's ever had any illusions that it's anything other than a distraction, a way for Danny to forget how much his life sucks, at least in his eyes.

If he could only see it through Steve's....

But he can't, so Steve just has to help the best way he can. "Not in here," Steve mutters, removing his hand from Danny's ass with some difficulty--it just wants to stay there.

"Why not?"

"Because I have supplies out there," Steve says, pushing Danny back just a little.

Danny shakes his head. "Boy Scout," he mutters, stepping back out of the shower, but grabbing Steve's hand, dragging him back into the room.

"I'm a SEAL," Steve says, pulling free of Danny's grasp to stop at his bag. "We're ten times more prepared than the Boy Scouts."

"I'm beginning to think you're all talk," Danny says, an empty Longboard bottle falling off the bed as Danny flops back on it, his cock half hard and bobbing a little when he lands. Steve's mouth goes dry as he looks at everything he wants lying there waiting for him.

For now.

He shakes himself back into his head and grabs condoms and lube from his bag, but takes his time crossing to the bed, the appreciation in Danny's eyes too good not to enjoy. He has no idea if it's appreciation for Steve's help, or for Steve's body, but he's going with the latter, since he's not about to ask and he doubts Danny's going to offer up the answer.

Might as well enjoy the fantasy.

Danny's eyes are dark, focused on Steve as he kneels on the bed and slowly crawls up the length of it to straddle Danny's thighs. "You're sure about this?" Steve asks, even though part of him is afraid the answer will be no.

But Danny nods. "I want," he says in a low voice, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips, "to forget everything."

Steve's still not sure Danny realizes what he's getting himself into, but he can do his best to make Danny forget. "Everything?" Steve asks, nudging one of Danny's legs out of the way and then the other, until he's sitting between Danny's thighs instead of over them. "I think I can manage that."

"Can you?" The words are as much a challenge as the expression on Danny's face, open and fiery, as if he's forgotten a lot already, and looking forward to forgetting more.

"I'm pretty sure, yeah," Steve says, meeting that look with what he hopes is a confident smirk, though if Danny notices the way Steve's hands are shaking as he opens the lube, he might see behind that look.

Danny doesn't seem to notice, however. He wets his lips again, making Steve's dick twitch against Danny's thigh, earning him a delighted smile. "Nice to see you're interested," Danny says, his smile doing nothing to diminish the heat in his eyes.

"When have I ever not been?" Steve cringes inwardly at the raw admission he can hear in his own voice, but either Danny's oblivious in general, or he's just too lust-focused to notice the tone. Steve hurries his hands down behind Danny's balls before he can notice, one finger poised at the opening there. "Ready?"

"For like an hour now, dammit!" Danny growls. "Will you get on with it?"

Steve's answer is to press a finger inside, watching Danny's face for any sign of discomfort. There's nothing, though, only Danny pushing further onto Steve's finger, making noises like he can't get it deep enough fast enough, and Steve's starting to worry he's going to come right then and there before he can even get a second finger in.

"More," Danny says, pushing against Steve's finger, and he obliges, getting a second finger inside, earning him a hoarse, "Fuck," from Danny as he pushes onto the two fingers just as eagerly as he did the one.

Steve grabs his own dick at the base, willing it to calm down just a little, no small feat as he watches Danny more or less fucking himself on Steve's fingers, so fucking tight around them that just imagining him surrounding Steve's dick sort of makes everything blank out for a second.

But only a second, and then he's back, a third finger slipping inside for a mercifully short time before Danny's pushing his hand away. "Want you," he pants, sounding like he's already gone three rounds in a porn flick.

Steve fumbles with the condom, slips it on and coats it with lube as fast as he can, his eyes hardly leaving Danny, who's making little aborted movements like he can still feel the ghost of Steve's fingers inside him and is still trying to get them deeper. Steve finds the undersides of Danny's knees, sliding his hands down Danny's thighs to push his legs up, feeling his dick slide along the crevice of Danny's ass. "Danny," Steve breathes out, watching Danny's face, making sure he's paying close attention, that he's watching this happen.

Because he's allowed to forget everything else, except who he's with.

He pushes in slowly, stopping when the head of his dick is fully inside, as much for himself as for Danny, stilling Danny's hips when he tries to push down. "I can take it," Danny growls, pushing against Steve's hands, now firm on his ass, but Steve shakes his head.

"Maybe you can," Steve grits out, "but I'd like this to last more than fifteen seconds."

And just like that, Danny stops, a slow smile growing across his face. "Want me that much, do you?" he says.

 _Don't flatter yourself_ , Steve feels like he should joke, but he can't. He knows he needs to keep this light on some level, or he'll lose it all. But he can't lie, not when they're like this.

So he doesn't answer, he just leans down and attacks Danny's shoulder, just to the left of his neck, nipping and sucking at it until he knows there's a mark there, one he'll be able to see tomorrow and remember this.

Checking the mark just long enough to be sure it's visible, Steve moves on, taking Danny's lips with his own, laying siege to Danny's mouth the way he would an enemy camp he's trying to conquer. The move slides him a little further into Danny's body, and Danny pushes back, easing Steve into him as fast as either of them dares.

And God, he's so tight, Steve feels like the breath is being strangled out of him, like a phoenix bursting into flames, with no way of stopping it and no desire to, only slightly bothered by the faint worry of what he'll be when the ashes cool.

Then even the worry is gone, as he's in as far as he can get, Danny's ass spasming around him. He finds himself having to hold incredibly still for a long moment in an effort to keep himself from blurting out all sorts of things he knows he has no right to say, as much as to keep this from being over right now.

"Steve," Danny breathes, barely more of a sigh against Steve's neck, and it makes Steve shudder, which makes Danny shudder around him in response.

Steve starts to move, then, his hands grasping at Danny's shoulders, sweat making it difficult to get a grip. Steve lets his hands slide up Danny's neck into to the back of his head, finding purchase with his fingers twined in Danny's hair.

His forehead pressed to Danny's, Steve closes his eyes, feeling Danny's gasps just an inch from his mouth. He can't take it, he needs to swallow every breath, so he finds Danny's lips again, hot and wet against his own.

Danny's tongue pushes into Steve's mouth, and Steve sucks on it gratefully, grounding himself in the taste of Danny threatening to overwhelm him, and the feel of him moving so fast under and around Steve's body now, pushing up hard, meeting Steve's strength thrust for thrust.

It's too much, too good, and he can't take it anymore as he pushes hard one last time, getting as deep as he can inside Danny's body before he comes hard, losing track of time, but never losing track of Danny, hyperaware of every molecule of skin that's touching his.

He's aware of Danny still pushing against him, of his hard dick between their bodies, of the desperate noises Danny's making as he thrusts.

Steve slips out of Danny's body, fingers sliding out of Danny's hair to press against Danny's lips and stop the protests. "Shhh," he says, kissing his way down Danny's chest. "Let me...just...hold on...."

His mouth finds its goal--Danny's dick, hot and hard, bobbing up towards Steve's mouth as Danny continues to make those little noises in the back of his throat that Steve knows are going to haunt him long after Danny's gone; probably all the way to his grave. He slips his lips over the crown, Danny's groan causing an answering one in Steve's throat as he goes down further, taking Danny in as far as he can, wondering if he can fit him all the way inside and make it better than anyone Danny could ever find.

He tries his best, getting his nose to touch Danny's stomach before he has to pull back. Danny's fingers are restless in Steve's hair, his hips thrusting faster and faster, and Steve knows it's almost over, sadness mixed with satisfaction at the thought. It's clear Danny's forgotten _almost_ everything on the planet, judging by the incoherent noises combined with the occasional broken utterance of Steve's name. Mission accomplished, Steve thinks with a grim satisfaction.

If only it were that easy the rest of the time to make Danny forget everything but him.

Danny thrusts up one more time, shuddering with a groan that Steve thinks might have his name mingled in it as he comes down Steve's throat. Steve drinks it in, intent on making any other partner pale in comparison, until Danny sags back onto the bed, his entire body limp.

Steve releases him with a small slurping sound that makes Danny shiver. "Are you trying to kill me?" Danny asks, voice hoarse, eyes still closed.

"Funny, I thought my technique rated slightly above death."

"Oh your technique is better than anything I've ever--" Danny vaguely flops a hand around in a rather lame attempt of his usual hand wave before he just gives up and focuses on breathing.

"Glad to hear it," Steve says, going for smug and thinking he might've made it pretty believable. Maybe Danny won't notice any undercurrents that lingered, though if Steve doesn't get out of there, he isn't sure that'll last.  "I think I need another shower," Steve says.

Danny grabs his arm with surprising strength, pulling him down onto the bed beside him. "No."

"No?"

"Stay."

His eyes are still closed, so he can't see Steve frowning at him. "Stay?"

Danny nods, turning onto his side and pulling Steve around him like a blanket. "Jus' a minute," Danny says, and then he's out, faint snores mixed in with the hum of the air conditioning.

His grip on Steve's arm is strong, for all that he's out for the count, though, so Steve does as he asks and stays.

***

The alarm goes off as the sun's coming up, and Steve feels Danny move, hears a slam, and the alarm shuts up. Danny sinks back into him, and Steve's just settling back into his warmth when the phone rings with their wake up call.

Right. Ambassadors Whatsisname and Whocares.

He's never felt less like doing his job in his life.

The phone rouses Danny, though, who manages to mumble something incoherent into the receiver and slam it back down before he slides out of bed and stumbles off to the shower.

Steve flops onto his back, throwing his arm over his eyes. Twice more Danny had woken up, turning to Steve instead of the alcohol, so instead of a hangover, they were both sleep deprived and sore, but Steve couldn't find it in him to care. He already knew he could do his job on much worse sleep deprivation than this, and the chance of anything going south on this 'mission' was so slim it was almost a joke they'd been asked to do what was, essentially, a babysitting job.

He takes his turn in the shower, the temptation to soak his sore muscles warring with the need to let them ache, to feel the burn all day long and remember why it was there. In the end he takes a short shower, stepping out of the steaming bathroom and back into the room with only a towel around his hips.

Danny's shirt is still open, tails flapping as he steps into his pants, and Steve's eyes are drawn to the dark mark on his collarbone. The shirt and tie will cover it, sadly, though Steve knows it's better that way--both for their reputation and for Steve's concentration.

But he'll know it's there.

The thought makes him smile, and he gets dressed feeling far less sleep deprived than he knows he should, making an effort in a shirt and dress pants and a jacket, but refusing to go so far as to wear a tie, no matter how dark the look Danny might give him.

Danny mumbles something about coffee and they hit the Starbucks in the lobby before meeting up with hotel security. The day goes smoothly, no sign of bad guys or of Rachel or Stan, and it seems like no time, despite the boring diplomatic doubletalk, that they're shaking hands with the security team and heading back to the lobby.

In deference to the heat of the open-air lobby, Danny's actually sliding out of his tie and unbuttoning his shirt before they're even to the registration desk. "Do we have time to get some food before we leave?" he asks, scratching at his neck.

Steve misses the question at first, too busy staring at the mark on Danny's collarbone to process it right away, until his brain plays it back. He checks his watch, and then his eyes go back to watching Danny's collar move, showing glimpses of that mark that are rapidly making Steve's entire body forget all about food. "Yeah," he says. "There's a restaurant in Lahaina that--"

He sees Danny see her, knows exactly where she's standing without having to look, but he does anyway. She's standing a few feet away, an uncertain half-smile on her face. "Sorry," she says, "about yesterday, I just wasn't expecting to see you here."

"That makes two of us," Danny says, and Steve's eyes fly back to him, but he looks far more relaxed than the tight voice he's squeezing out of his throat. "I thought you didn't like Maui."

"Yes, well, we all make our sacrifices," Rachel says, and really, Steve thinks, glaring at her, she has no right to the bitterness in her tone. Danny's not the one carrying someone else's child. "You're still picking up Grace tomorrow?"

Danny manages a curt nod. "I'm sure she'll be bored with the maids by then," he says.

Rachel looks as if she's about to blow, but then she blinks. Steve follows her eyeline and realizes she's seen the mark on Danny's neck.

He knows better than to show any sign he's noticed, but he watches her slowly deflate, her eyes flicking to Steve and back to Danny's neck before they become very interested in the tile on the floor. "She'll be ready at eight," Rachel says, sounding a little lost, and Steve turns back to Danny just in time to see him look vaguely confused as she walks off without another word.

Danny turns to Steve. "Did that seem odd to you?"

Steve shrugs. He's not about to get into the middle of that one, and he's certainly not going to give Rachel an advantage by admitting his accidental and completely unintentional victory. "You expected it to go well?"

Danny frowns at him for a few seconds, then shakes his head and turns towards the elevators, not waiting to see that Steve's following him. "Restaurant in Lahaina, you said?"

"Yeah," Steve says, getting onto the elevator a step behind Danny. "You'll love it."

"Good. I'm starved."

There's no more mention of Rachel, and Danny looks oddly more relaxed than Steve would've expected after the meeting. But he's not looking a gift horse in the mouth--he'll enjoy his dinner with Danny and his sightings of the all-too-vivid reminder of last night that lay just behind Danny's collar.

_Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero._

Though for the first time in a long time, he's wondering if the future might be a little brighter than he'd thought.

\---

END

**Author's Note:**

> Want to learn more about me and my writing? Visit my page at <http://www.jamiemeadowswrites.com/>


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